


His Incognito Inheritance

by hexedharlot



Series: Identity Trilogy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 80's Music, 90's Music, Care of Magical Creatures, Consensual Underage Sex, Creature Fic, Creature Inheritance, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Gargoyles, Good Slytherins, House Elves, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Musical References, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Pining Draco Malfoy, Punk Rock, Room of Requirement, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Lucius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexedharlot/pseuds/hexedharlot
Summary: Draco Malfoy is nearly 90% Veela. His family's secret can NEVER get out, but does he really want to keep hiding?"Fear. It seems to be the only thing I know. It's always held me in its talons, ripping into my flesh with each feeble attempt to escape it. Fear. It's the driving force behind most of my actions. It only seems to grow stronger with each passing day. Fear. It commands the voices in my head stating 'What comes next will be worse' each and every time I receive good news. It's trickling through my mind, my veins, my heart as though it owns me. Fear. It's constant chaos echoes throughout my entire existence. It has always been with me, and it always will be. Fear. Maybe it made me."
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory/Other(s), Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle/Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Series: Identity Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825240
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/T4Ob4hx9nMA

Narcissa knew her mother was a Veela. She knew her father was half Veela. She knew her mother in law was a Veela, and as such her husband was a partbred as well. She also knew that this could never, never be revealed, to anyone. If their secret came out, Merlin knows what would happen, but Narcissa didn't dare follow that train of thought. Plus, she had more important matters to take care of right now. Such as her son.

They're out in the gardens together. She's planting flowers and Draco is running around on stubby toddler legs, trying to catch a peacock. Every day she takes him out here, reading to him and telling him stories about her family. 

Setting aside the spade and breathing in fresh air, that's when she hears it - a peacock in pain and the crackle of a fire. Fuck.

The sight Narcissa is met with when she turns is nearly too much for her to process. Her son, fists aflame as he glares at a burning cherry tree. Maximus, Lucius' favorite peacock, dead in the dirt, singed feathers and neck at a gruesome angle. Blazing blossoms floating in the air, catching on the wind and flying away. Draco, his face with a snout quite similar to a dragon, his ears elongated and pointy, his arms covered in baby blue scales and tipped with talons. The sight of the wings sprouting from his shoulders - silvery blue, veined with gold, batty membranes, dragonesque. Maybe naming him Draco didn't help her luck. Oops.

Not knowing how to handle his first transformation, she thinks back to her own childhood instead.

"Bella?" Andy asks, voice quivering. She and Cissa peer around the couch to see their beloved older sister. Much to their horror, Bellatrix is on fire. She's sprouted gold wings, black talons, a dragon muzzle with sharp black fangs. She's not their sister anymore. She can't be.

"No!" Bella shrieks, turning to face them. The fire retreats down her arms, sitting content in her palms. Her face contorted in horror, she's a monster. She must be. "Don't look at me!" She cries, bloody tears streaking down her face. Her eyes go blank, and she drops to her knees. A dizzy smile appears on her face as she transforms back. Behind her, Cygnus Black stands with his wand pointed at Bella's neck. He must be protecting Cissa and Andy, he must be.

"Crucio," he whispers. Bellatrix shrieks again, more tears flowing out of her bloodshot eyes. Andromeda jumps out from behind the couch and screams at their father. He does not relent. He continues to torture his eldest daughter. It must be good for her. It must be.

Andromeda's fingers lengthen to sharp points. Pearly pink wings sprout from her shoulders. Fire creeps from her hands to her chest. She flings a handful of flame at her father's face. This must be done. 

Cygnus decides to torture the both of them. Narcissa watches, frozen in place with terror. She must never let their secret be known, she mustn't.

Bellatrix had gone insane. Andromeda got disowned. And Narcissa? She's afraid. Fear is all she's known. Her entire existence is based on hate, cowardice, and fear. And she mustn't subject her son to the same. She can't.

So instead she stands there, staring at Draco; too afraid to punish him, too cowardly to stop him, and hating herself for it all the more. Her husband steps in instead.

Lucius flies out the window, landing directly behind Draco. His long hair whips about him with the wind just as the cherry blossoms are. He points his cane on Narcissa, who is instantly bathed in calm.

I must go to Lucius' office. I must wait for him. I must let him take care of Draco.

She saunters to his office dizzily, eyes unfocused. The sound of her screaming son don't reach her ears. The belt slicing through the air escape her senses. She can't be bothered beneath the Imperius. This is fine. She'll get punished as well, and all will be fine. Lucius walks in, then the enchantment lifts.

"Lucius, please," she begs, kneeling before him. "Please don't hurt him."

"Too late to plead. You should learn to control the beast you made, before you can't anymore." And then he's punishing her, as well.


	2. masking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/z4cYe_aVwS4

Fear. It seems to be the only thing I know. It's always held me in its talons, ripping into my flesh with each feeble attempt to escape it. Fear. It's the driving force behind most of my actions. It only seems to grow stronger with each passing day. Fear. It commands the voices in my head stating "What comes next will be worse" each and every time I receive good news. It's trickling through my mind, my veins, my heart as though it owns me. Fear. It's constant chaos echoes throughout my entire existence. It has always been with me, and it always will be. Fear. Maybe it made me.

Fire. It seems it's all I've ever had. It comes from my talons, bursting from my skin and shredding all logical thought. Fire. It's the only thing that keeps me safe. Each day I can feel it burning within me. Fire. It burns my thoughts into ashes, showing no mercy. It courses through my being, my body, my soul-it belongs to me and me only. Fire. The only thing that can make sense of the chaos surrounding me. Maybe it made me.

~×~

Consciousness hits me like a brick before I can register why my cheek burns. Father stands above me, hand raised and ready to strike me again. It seems I had another hot dream.

"You ruined yet another set of bedsheets," he drawls, expensive rings slicing through my skin as he slaps me. I don't react whatsoever, knowing from experience that would set him off even worse. "Some of my colleagues are coming for tea and lunch later. That Zabini bint and the Parkinson prat are coming with their parents."

"Zabini is a boy, and Pans-er, Parkinson is a girl." I regret my disobedience immediately.

"You're lucky that we have guests today, otherwise you would not be allowed any meals today. Even so, do not take more than you are offered. You and your bitch of a mother make a mockery of my name," he spits at me. "Get up, bathe, dress yourself, and collect yourself like a proper Malfoy man. When you have finished, you will copy pages from Most Potente Potions and practice brewing Veritaserum. If you fail you will go without eating tomorrow." He leaves my bedroom, leaving me sitting on my bed, face unhealed and bleeding.

~×~

Mother calls me upstairs when the Parkinsons finally arrive. My wrists are sore from stirring my potion and getting swatted with the stirstick whenever I made a mistake. Pansy makes pleading eye contact with me and I know her day was just as bad as mine. We nod in greeting and scramble to my room as fast as possible while staying dignified enough that our parents won't notice.

She sits on my bed and begins to cry - cheeks flushed, eyes red and swollen, nose running wetly into her mouth. Disgusting. But despite my wishes, I'm worried for her. Before I know it I'm sat next to her with my arm around the 8 year olds shoulder, holding her tightly to my chest.

"It happened again," she breathes, barely a whisper. "Gizzy got caught. I haven't seen her since he found her. The other elves say-" she chokes and another wave of tears washes over her. I hug her tighter to me, rubbing circles between her shoulders, only stopping when Blaise walks in, immediately joining me in my attempt to comfort her.

"Gizzy hasn't been seen, PanPan is worried about what her father might have done," I catch him up to speed while Pansy nods, confirming my assessment. When she broke her arm last year and her parents refused to Heal it, Gizzy was the house elf who took care of her. They had become very close, but every time the elf got caught meeting with the girl or bringing her food when she was in trouble, Pansy's parents would punish the pair harshly.

Blaise clears his throat. "Can we get some water for her please?" He speaks softly, and one of the Malfoy Manors elves Apparates in with a pop and holding a tray, upon which sit a crystal pitcher and sparkling glasses. He bows to us as the pitcher fills itself.

"Young Master Malfoy, I presume you share the wish of Master Blaise? Dobby can leaves you be if you wants."

After much thanks to Dobby, we compose ourselves so we can eat with our parents downstairs. We walk in right as Mr. Parkinson finishes his sentence with, "and I used the Killing Curse right there, nasty little thing." Pansy inhales sharply. I guess that mystery is solved. 

~×~

Getting to sleep that night was harder than I could imagine. Pansy was right - her father had killed her best friend. My stomach aches dully, a reminder that I haven't eaten since noon. Blaise had gotten Crucio'd right before departing, as he was displaying some of his gargoyle traits without realizing it. Most Pureblood families have at least a little magical creature blood, but it was unspoken of. Yes, the creature ancestry did give us extra powers. Yes, it lessened incestuous patterns. Yes, it was looked down upon. And so, whenever Pans gets upset and murmurs something in Mermish unknowingly, she gets beat. The harsher punishments were only given if a child showed partbred traits in public, hence why Blaise got to feel the full extent of an Unforgivable Curse at lunch - his ears had pointed and turned grey without his realizing. I wonder how long I can hold back my fire before getting Crucio'd like my mother was in that very moment.

My stomach grumbling, Mother's screams echoing in my ears, I drifted back into my dreams of inferno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me UwU. also how do i italicize on this hellsite?


	3. pretty boy potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/rmMfcBdGOc4

On my eleventh birthday we received an owl confirming my acceptance into Hogwarts, as expected. Father had told me many times over how I was to behave, how I was to be a proud Slytherin, how I was to hate the other houses. I didn't see any faults in his logic. Aunt Andy(whom I have never met) was a Slytherin, but lost her pride and married a Mudblood - thus causing her to be disowned. Mother only told me about her as a sort of cautionary tale.

~×~

I had been to Diagon Alley before, but never was it this busy. Mother would take me in the early morning to retrieve money from the family vault. Father would take me in the later hours of the day and we'd head to Bourgin and Burkes. Today, however, the newest students for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were out shopping for school supplies. Father had gone to get my books, and Mother walked me to Madam Malkins, the robe shop. I, of course, told her to leave me there and wait at the wand shop. My Mother will not watch me get measured, I can't lose that dignity. 

Just as I'm stood on a pedestal, an older witch pinning my robes, another boy walks in. Now, I've thought Blaise was quite attractive before, but this kid was on a whole other level. His hair is darker than the night, his smooth skin the color of my favorite salted caramel, his bright green eyes shielded by very adorable(yet filthy and broken) glasses. I must have him be my friend.

"Hello," I say with my best attempt for my voice to remain calm. "Hogwarts too?" He replies with a simple yes. Perfect. "My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," I say coolly. See? I'm independent. Please love me. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." I won't, he'd beat me. Please don't see through me. "Have you got your own broom?" I try to sound disinterested(I'm very interested) in what his answer will be.

"No," he said with a small frown.

"Play Quidditch at all?" Please have a common interest with me.

"No," he repeated. He's not easy to talk to, that's for sure. I want so desperately for him to be my friend. Hopefully I can charm him into liking me.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree." Please think I'm interesting. "Know what House you'll be in yet?" Hopefully I sound casual.

"No," the boy said, looking somewhat baffled at that. I shall explain, just like Father did for me.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" I hardly breathed in my explanation, he has me so damn flustered.

He hums in response just as I spot the biggest man I've ever seen, grinning at the other boy and holding enormous ice creams. "I say, look at that man!"

"That's Hagrid," the boy says, smiling in a ridiculously adorable way. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," I say dumbly. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," he replied with a small frown. I must not sound impressive enough for him.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," the boy says coldly. 

"Do you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" I stomp away the sneer of confusion on my face.

"They're dead."

This boy really is infuriating.

"Oh, sorry... But they were our kind, weren't they?" I'm nearly begging him, I want Father to approve of him.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" I'm getting frantic now. "They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, Imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families." Like Father says. "What's your surname anyway?"

Madam Malkins sends him off before he answers. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," I say, hoping he's in my house.

~*~

I had, of course, told Dobby all about the boy. And Pansy. And Blaise. Dobby was my favorite elf. He'd healed me after Father had Crucio'd me the first time. He'd helped us comfort Pansy when Gizzy was killed. He'd kept my secrets, and kept me safe. I told Dobby everything.

Now, however, I'm feeling extraordinarily stupid. The boy I had a crush on was apparently Harry Potter. The Harry Potter, the one my parents hated. The one who stopped the Dark Lord. The one who, as a baby, prevented me from being forced to commit war crimes at a young age. Naturally, I was going to go see for myself. Mother paid Crabbe and Goyle's parents to make them be my body guards, so of course they had to follow me to the end of the train to get a better look.

I couldn't hide my interest this time. He had a huge spread of sweets around him, and with that much ambition, even for food, he must be a Slytherin. Maybe he'd share a dorm with me...

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" He answered a quick yes and stared at the burly boys on either side of me. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The Weasley tried hiding a laugh with my name. "Think my name's funny, don't you? My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford," I retaliate at him before turning back to Harry with a small smile. Now's my chance.

"You'll find out soon some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you get there." Perfectly phrased, Mother and Father would be proud. I hold my hand out for him to shake, but for some odd reason he doesn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Potter snaps. The fire makes my cheeks go pink and I spit a very Slytherin sounding retort back at him. Potter and the Weasley stand up and Weasley is pissed.

"Say that again," says Weasley, face red as his hair. What did I even say again?

We argue a bit more before a small rat bites Goyle's hand. It's missing a toe, probably got into a fight with a dog or something. 

I storm off, followed by the two brutes paid to protect me, and don't have any logical thought until after I'm sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. My godfather - Severus Snape - is looking at my ears, and only now do I realize I'm partway transformed. After the feast, he's going to Crucio me, I just know it. And I was right, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me UwU💜


	4. creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/3TcJkociEAs

I try my hardest to focus on the jar of fairy wings on the shelf across from me, struggling to hide the pain that's fighting to show on my impassive face. Snape stands behind me, probably smirking, stroking my hair with cold, knobby fingers. He had written to Father after catching me partway transformed, and in turn got orders to trim my hair.

Veela hair contained our power and our essence. If enough hair was pulled out by the root, it was fatal to my kind. In turn, to cut our hair was to limit our power, as well as making our transformations much more difficult. And, of course, it was excruciatingly painful.

So here I am, in my godfathers dingy dungeon office, immobilized in an extremely cold iron chair. The jar of fairy wings was the only thing I managed to focus on out of all the creepy ingredients in the room. They're each about the size of my thumb, and an iridescent blue/pink that glows slightly in the firelight.

Snape finishes his slow stroking of my scalp, and stares at me through his greasy locks while gathering up my white ones off the stone floor. A thought strikes me just then and I wonder if he's part hag.

"You will be quite the help to me, Draco. Veela hair is an exquisite ingredient in fire resistance potions, and I have been tasked with making a few for the Headmaster." He stands, tucking away a jar of bright gold under his arm, and releases his immobility spell he had placed on me.

"Can I go now, Godfather?" I drawl out in the most bored voice I can muster. He nods in response.

After I'm out of his office, I go as fast as possible back to the Slytherin dorms, mumbling a quick "Salem witch trials" to the portrait on my way in. Luckily, no one was up yet, and so I was able to weep on my fourposter until around six o'clock. Hogwarts already wasn't much of an improvement to life at the Manor, and it was only 5:47 on the first day.

~*~

In our first potions class(with Gryffindor, no less) I couldn't help but steal looks at a very handsome boy whose named rhymed with "scary otter." Father had me practice potions all the time, with Snape tutoring me in the summers, so I hadn't felt the need to pay much attention to the lesson. Blaise sat next to me, with Pansy to his left, and neither of them seemed to enjoy being underground very much. It was quite weird actually, Blaise looked more grey than usual, and Pansys hair didn't shine green in the dim light. Her hair usually reminded me of a crow perched in the sun, black but slightly iridescent. She's told me it's probably because of her being part Nixie, a lake dwelling subspecies of Merfolk that resembled anthropomorphized frogs.

"I don't quite like it down here," Blaise says, "makes me wanna go all gargoyle, what with all the stone." He frowns around at the slimy looking walls.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy asks, looking affronted. Blaises frown deepens and his brow furrows at her.

"I'm really tempted to go sit on one of the stone ledges," he explains. "My instincts are yelling at me that I should transform and just fucking stare at everybody, watch over the room. Do gargoyles merge with stone to get a better grip?" Pansy and I are struggling to hold in our laughter.

~*~

The Black Lake seemed to be a favorite of Pansys. She made us sit with her at the beach, telling us anecdotes of how her grandfather had studied Mermish and started dating a Nixie in his 6th year at Hogwarts.

It was hard for me to wrap my head around. She had cousins who lived in this lake. I can't help but wonder if I had any Veela cousins, and if so, where they might be. My Veela grandmothers were all slaughtered before I could make substantial memories of them. 

Grandma Malfoy was killed by her husband when Father was my age, as the Malfoy name had a reputation, and nobody could discover that we're partbreds. Father had killed Grandma Black in front of me, when he caught her telling me about the prowess of the Veela. Great Grandma Black was killed by Aunt Bella, but that was before I was born.

Grandma Black was my favorite relative, quite possibly because she was the only one who was genuinely proud of me. All my life I've been told how I'm a disappointment to the Malfoy name, to my Father, to the wizarding world overall. But Gran Black was a proud Veela, and in the end it's what got her killed. I never got to finish the puzzle we had been working on together. For some reason, the puzzle she had given me is my most prized possession. The pieces are under my bed in the dorm, left in the same condition it was when Father yelled Avada Kedavra at my Gran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are appreciated!! also sorry for the filler chapter, when i wrote it originally life was hectic. i wrote this to flesh out my imaginary world as an escape from the real one


	5. curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/0XH3oMNKApI

The second week of school brought with it quite a bit of excitement, as we were to start broomstick lessons Thursday afternoon. I already know how to ride a broom, growing up at the Manor. My parents didn't give two shits about underage wizardry. Their homeschooling included advanced lessons of charms, hexes, potions, curses, herbology, jinxes, transfiguration, the dark arts, and Quidditch. Although, the Quidditch was more of a nickname for whatever torture Father would choose for me - rather, it was mainly him setting multiple Bludgers on me and making whatever Pureblood children that were visiting fight to find the Snitch, dodging blows and learning to shove one another out of the way. These broom lessons were the reason why Pansy ever got close to Gizzy, the house elf, in the first place. She had been knocked off her broom by Vince, and her parents didn't care enough to Heal her magically.

Sitting in the Great Hall Thursday morning, a commotion came from that idiot four eyes' table. Naturally, I investigated. Turns out Longbottoms gran had sent him a Remembrall, and, having never been in the presence of one before - "it's unbefitting for any wizard who have any sense of dignity" - I picked it up casually so as to inspect it. Mcgonagall came over and thought I was looking for trouble, unfortunately. I decided to check it out next chance I got, which turned out to be that afternoon.

Our flying instructor was a half-harpy dyke with yellow eyes sharp as a hawks. A part of me wonders if she teaches flying to the first years due to that part of her: would she be able to transform and save a student mid air? Maybe not, I think to myself when the Longbottom boy plunges to the ground with a sharp CRACK. Madam Hooch leads him off to the medical wing, leaving us with strict instructions enforced with the threat of expulsion. Now I looked about, ready to start a show.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" I shout out at the class. The Patil girl told me to shut up, but Pansy did Not like that, immediately telling Parvati off. That's when I saw it: Nevilles Remembrall.

"Look!" I yell out while running to it excitedly before squashing the emotion out of me. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"Give it here, Malfoy," Potter growls at me, and I feel the indistinct urge to show off for him. Am I displaying for him?! I smile and continue my show.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?" Yep, definitely displaying.

"Give it here!" Potter yells, but instincts kick in and I kick off from the ground. The air is amazing, even if I can't spread my wings, and in my enjoyment I fly to the topmost branches of a large oak.

"Come and get it, Potter!" He's on his broom, flying to me with such skill I have to wonder if he lied to me back at the robe shop. The Granger yells at him but I don't care. Blood is rushing in my ears and I am oddly excited, in the pit of my stomach.

"Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!" His eyes are full of fury, directed at me. I'm a little scared now, the Veela in me screaming that I have angered the best potential mate I have.

Trying to hide it with a sneer, I say, "Oh yeah?" And he reminds me my bodyguards are still on the ground. Sly little bitch. "Catch it if you can, then!" I retaliate, dropping the Remembrall, watching for his next action.

He moved with ease, speeding down with an aptitude that shocks everyone on the green Quidditch field. Students screamed and I just hovered, in complete shock, as he grabs the glass ball moments before it shatters in the grass. I'm on my feet and I don't know how I got there, but Professor Mcgonagall comes out onto the pitch, striding furiously towards Harry.

She's screaming at him and leading him away long before I can blink, being woken from my reverie by an elbow to my side and Pansy muttering to me that my pupils are slits instead of circles. My eyes had transformed so I could get a better view, apparently. 

~*~

I'm surprised to see how unbothered - gleeful, even - he is at dinner. Did he want to go back home? Maybe I'll get some answers from from, Vince and Greg flanking me to the other side of the vast Great Hall.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Do they treat you right?

"You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry grinds out in a sinister way. He's wrong though, they're not friends - they're hindrances. 

"I'd take you anytime on my own," I growl, hoping he'll take the bait. Maybe I can actually talk to him, alone. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact," even if I wanna touch your hair. I notice the flash of fear in his emerald eyes. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," says the redhead. I could never be a Weasel like him. "I'm his second, who's yours?" Oh fuck. I wanted to be alone. I look to the paid imbeciles on either side of me, trying to think of a lie.

"Crabbe. Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Vincent had a most terrible idea. He alerted Filch, and Potter would be in trouble. All because I wanted to speak to him alone. At least pretty boy hadn't gotten expelled the next day. In fact, he had instead received a new broomstick and the Seeker position for Gryffindors Quidditch team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments always welcomed!!  
> original a/n from watt: For those of you who remember from last chapter, my mom was very sick and had been tested for COVID. Luckily, the test came back negative, but my sister had appendicitis and was rushed into emergency surgery. My oldest brother also just moved out. Life's been hectic, but I will try to maintain an upload schedule. Thanks so very much for reading, friends! Also, criticism is always welcomed and appreciated


	6. suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original notes from watt: sorry about the song not being a Vibe Song, i just wanted to share my favorite writing soundtrack  
> https://youtu.be/KFORUm0EPn4

Dear Draco,  
I'm so sorry about this. Your Godfather owled to us about how often he's caught you mid-transformation, and your Father decided it best to add some Power Sedative to the sweets I made for you. Hopefully it doesn't taste too bad, darling. Please write home soon, I miss you very dearly.  
Love you lots, Mum

"Well isn't that fucking fantastic," I grumble, handing the parchment over to Blaise and Pansy so they can read it too. We had all been getting Crucio'd by Snape almost daily, and have taken to hiding in the kitchens and having light conversation with the many elves there. Some were teaching Blaise to sew, some were teaching Pansy healing charms, some were teaching me to cook. They're quite scintillating company once you get to know them. My favorite thing to make was treacle tart, and every time I spotted Pretty Boy across the Great Hall shoving it into his face I felt, yet again, that odd sense of warm excitement deep in my belly. I had to be careful when this happened, however, because I once punctured my goblet with my talons, boiling the pumpkin juice inside. That night held an extra long session with Snape.

~*~

Things seemed to have settled into a rhythm of sorts - walk through the castle with an upturned nose, flanked by furious idiots; see Potter, provoke Potter; down my sweets and lose my sense of self for a couple hours; hang out with Pansy and Blaise and the elves until my godfather comes to yell at us. It was fine, up until Halloween.

The feast on Hallows Eve was amazing as ever, live bats flew through the Hall, giant Jack o Lanterns flanked the walls. It was extraordinary, and I had to wonder if I could transform partway without being noticed amongst the many costumes.

But then that fat fuck Quirrel came in, sprinting flat out, just to announce the presence of a troll and pass out at the Headmasters feet. 

Warrington - a Slytherin prefect - herded us all back to the commons, Blaise Pansy and I running to my dorm. The dorms always looked worse than they were. According to legend, if any non-Slytherin entered our common room, it would feel miserably cold and stuffy. As if anyone in their right mind could get in here. 

"Who do you think did it?" Pansy asks excitedly, sitting on Blaise's lap and laying over mine. I absently run my fingers through her hair, reminded of when she would cry on us after an especially horrid flying lesson at the Manor. 

"Peeves, maybe?" Blaise offers.

"I highly doubt he's strong enough to smuggle in a troll. And even if he was, how could he have gotten past the gates?" They look around, trying to think of a response to my questions.

"Where did it even come from?" Pansy thinks aloud, rubbing her hand on the green silk sheets on my four poster. Blaise wiggles his chin and looks up at the ceiling, seeming thoughtful.

~*~

The Mudblood, Granger, began clinging to Potter and Weasley after the incident with the troll, validating the rumor that they had fought the troll together, as she seemed to quite dislike them beforehand.

I'm beyond ecstatic to watch Potter perform on a broom again, and it seems my wish will come true on Saturday, as it will be the first Quidditch match of the season:Gryffindor versus Slytherin. By eleven that morning, most of the school could be found in the stands around the pitch, urging the match to start soon. 

The game wasn't unlike the games I've seen before, so I fixed my eyes on Pretty Boy, hovering above the match. His broom is, no that can't be right. Or is it? No, his broom is definitely trying to buck him off. It took a couple minutes for others to notice, but soon the Weasleys were trying to help him off, and after his broom seemed to listen again, he soared to the ground, hands over his mouth like he was going to be sick. He landed and started to heave, belching out the Snitch, of all things, causing Gryffindor to win. 

~*~

At Christmas time, I went home. Mother had missed me dearly, just like in her letter, and would not leave my side unless I was in the bathroom or going to bed. I was relieved to see a friendly face on the first night, when Dobby brought me a hot water bottle before bed. He listened to my stories, fascinated at the way Harry Potter had fought a troll, became a Seeker, held to his broom when it became mutinous, caught the Snitch in his mouth... You'd think Dobby had a crush on him too. Other than that it was the same, except how Father had a new sort of ferocity about me. 

~*~

Upon returning to school, I find myself having a much shorter fuse. I cursed Longbottom on my way out the library, I fought with the Weasel during the second Quidditch match, I followed the Trio to Hagrids hut, and, looking through the window, I am able to witness a dragon hatching, but I'm caught, and I sprint back to the castle to tell Snape. Maybe I can get rewarded for once.

The Weasel had gotten bit by the hatchling, and I discovered how they were planning to smuggle it out. I tried to catch them in the act, but I got caught myself, punished with detention. Fortunately, they got detention that night as well. Now, I have to sit and wait for Filch to bring us to our punishment: patroling the Forbidden Forest at night.

The others showed up, but to my surprise it isn't Weasley, Granger and Potter, but rather Granger, Potter, and Longbottom. Perfect. Filch leads the four of us down to Hagrids ghastly hut, outlined by the edge of the foreboding Forbidden Forest, telling us about how repercussions should be much harsher. Hagrid splits us into two groups and explains how he wants us to find an injured unicorn. 

~*~

"Hey Malfoy?" Neville asks as we walk along the path with Fang, Hagrids black boarhound.

"What is it, Longbottom?" I try to sound exasperated at him, but he doesn't seem to take notice of it.

"Why do you always mention your father whenever something doesn't go your way?" 

I stop dead in my tracks, breathing hard, stomach twisting.

"He doesn't seem like a pleasant person to me, and when you cursed me after the holidays I heard you talking about him. Does he hurt you?" His stupidly round face is alight with genuine concern.

"Shut your fat face, Longbottom. My family life has nothing to do with you. Nosy Gryffindor." He nods and continues walking, not bringing it up again. I'm livid at him, teeming with rage I didn't know I could muster, and before I know it I'm grabbing him from the back, hands, no, talons red hot with fire. He shoots sparks and yelps while I catch my breath, staring wide eyed at my hands while they return to normal.

The gameskeeper decides to put me with Pretty Boy Potter instead, and off we go. He spots a unicorn, bright white under the light of the moon. I would have noticed it sooner had I not been in shock over how I almost burnt Longbottom to a crisp. 

It was dead, silver blood gleaming in a puddle around it. It was a terrible sight. A vampirelike figure came rushing out of the wood to suckle at the wound on the unicorns side and I run away screaming. Will I ever be like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love comments very very much! i was unfocused when writing this, mainly due to anger at my cat who had spilled coffee on the books i had just bought


	7. motherly lament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/Iets6iLm3QY  
> (also if hermione were white she'd look like the misterwives singer sorry i don't make the rules)

"Draco, what the fuck happened last night?" Pansy jumps on my bed and I'm shocked to see her partway transformed and mostly naked.

"Pansy! What the hell?!" I try to push her off my bed but she catches my wrists with slimy, webbed fingers, sneering at me through green lips, baring sharpened teeth.

"Blaise says you came running in at around three a.m., and wouldn't say anything." She holds me in a vicelike grip, enlarged yellow eyes glaring at me between curtains of iridescent green hair. "I heard you mumbling in your sleep when I came in here. Did you burn Longbottom?"

"No, Pansy. Where are your clothes? Also, why the hell are you transformed? Snape is gonna kill you."

"Tell me what happened. And I just got out of the shower, Blaise told me in the bathroom," she says as though she and Blaise regularly bathe together or something. "Stop looking at me like that, we're worried about you." Her eyes finally shrink down to normal size and her skin loses some of its murky hue.

"Ok, well," I breathe in, trying to decide how to explain. "We were patrolling the forest, and Longbottom asked about Father. I got pissed and transformed. Hagrid put me with Potter instead and next I can remember I'm having nightmares about dead unicorns getting their blood drunk and burning people alive. Is that good enough for you?" I say, exasperated. She frowns, but leaves the dorm reluctantly without another word to me.

~*~

The exams and the studying that led up to them mostly occupied my mind, but I was terrified out of my wits at what I had nearly done. I could have killed him if I wanted to. I can hardly remember anything from the last few weeks of school.

Slytherin won the House Cup, and the Great Hall is decorated green and silver to celebrate my house. It's beautiful, and I find myself smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks. Of course, Dumbledick decides to give Gryffindor hundreds of points because Potter killed a teacher?! The entirety of Slytherin House is livid at the Headmaster, as well as the "Golden Trio"

~*~

Back at the Manor for summer. Father seems to hate me even more. Mother is avoiding him. I tell Dobby about Harry and how he makes me feel. It's all quite confusing: he makes me transform with anger, yet he's so fucking pretty, and for some reason it makes me that much angrier. Father notices that the elf and I are being much friendlier to each other and beats the both of us that much more because of it.

~*~

The morning of June fifth, I'm woke by Mother's gentle voice calling up the stairs, dripping sweetness. 

"Draco, dear, come downstairs for breakfast," a pause, "It's your birthday, my dragon, and we have invited some friends over for lunch this afternoon."

When I step into the dining room, Mum smiles at me and runs over to embrace me, accidentally getting some of her silver hair in my mouth while I gasp in surprise.

"Your Father is gone for now, my dragon." She pulls back and I can breathe again, suddenly free from her highly perfumed bosom. "This is a very important day, Draco." I look up at her, confused. "Your twelfth birthday, dear! Your Veela aspects are beginning to mature, darling, and soon you'll be able to take full advantage of your ancestry! Don't tell your father I said that, my dragon." She winks at me before turning to the dark oak dining table. It runs along the huge room, about two thirds the length of the House tables at school, and be fitted with white placemats for today's festivities. Dobby walks in right then, arms laden with trays of toasts, jams, cheeses, sausages, bacon, and multiple different fruit juices. He bows to us, smiling first at me before turning his grin to my mother.

"Mistress Narcissa, it is Young Master Dracos birthday, yes?" She nods at him, smirking slightly and running her thin fingers through her hair. "Will you is be giving him protector marks, Mistress Narcissa?" She nods again while he relinquishes his bow and places the tray on the table. "Dobby will go now, Mistress Narcissa, and work the grindstone for you."

"Thank You, Dobby," she says, waving him off and taking a seat.

"Mother, what does he mean by protector marks? And aren't grindstones used to make flour?" She ignores my questions entirely, slathering raspberry jam on some sourdough before fixing me a look as if to say 'well dig in, now. what are you waiting for?' and I oblige, only just realizing how hungry I was. I fill my plates with a mountain of food, turning to Mother as a question enters my mind, "Do I have to eat more, now that the Veela part of me is maturing?" She nods and gestures for me to continue eating.

After breakfast, she leads me out to the grounds with her, handing me a bucket of seed so I can join her in feeding the peacocks. Thinking back on it, they're probably my favorite part of life at the Manor. Mother and I used to come sit on the bench in the garden, the birds milling about curiously. I'd sit in her lap and she'd tell me stories, sometimes reading them to me, but other times making them up as she went. She'd taught me how to dance among the ivory roses and blush colored peonies, the fragrance soaking into our shining hair beneath the stars. It was here that I'd learnt of the stars, the constellations, the galaxies - I became so attached to the night sky it always felt like a close friend. My favorite was Sirius, the dog star, and when I told Mum this she had chuckled solemnly to herself, shaking her head eloquently. Apparently Sirius was the name of my Mother's cousin, brother to Regulus. She had told me teary eyed stories about the boys and their days at Hogwarts, lamenting about how much she had missed the two of them.

"Draco, I know I avoided answering this question earlier," Mother begins, stirring me from my memories, "but it's only because I was afraid of my own response. Veela have a tradition, one that I will uphold." She turns to me, dropping her empty bucket and grabbing my shoulders. A young emerald hen scrambles off, frightened by the sudden noise, while the older ones hardly flinch, including an exceedingly handsome 7 year old charcoal white eye cock. "I will be giving you protectors marks, a form of tattoo that will guide you through life." She holds up her forearms, tilting them in the sun and her veins sparkled blue. Except those weren't her veins, were they?

"What is that, Mother?" I ask tentatively, tracing the light marks across her wrists and hands.

"My mother gave them to me, your Grandma Black. They're sigil tattoos, but very faint, and very powerful. The ink is ground up gemstones - labradorite, sodalite, lepidolite, to name a few - ground up into pieces small enough to float between the layers of your skin. That's why they sparkle." She pauses, resting her hands on my shoulders again. "I will give you yours today, my dragon. It may hurt a bit, but it is an important tradition that will keep you safe, and pain is but a temporary emotion. Besides, I've a salve prepared to numb the stinging afterwards."

Dobby apparates to us then, holding two bowls. One of them contains a mound of what look to be occamy claws, the other home to a fine powder, glittering purple-blue-green in the sunlight. He smiles at us, placing the wooden bowls on the little glass garden table before disapparating away. Mother removes her hands from my shoulders once more, turning to fiddle with the occamy claws, leaving me to gape at her nervously. She senses this and, of course, states that it's not polite to stare open mouthed at a woman's backside.

When she finally faces me again, she has her wand in hand, and gestures for me to sit on our bench. A young silver spaulding cock jumps to sit next to me, nipping my fingers affectionately to hide the fact he's searching me for seed. With all my years experience with peafowl, I see straight through his ruse. 

"Pull up your sleeves, darling." I oblige. Mother grasps my hands and looks over my forearms in a calculating way, before humming to herself thoughtfully. "Vielli Proccio Incantatem," she whispers, waving her wand over my skin slowly. Black marks appear along the exposed flesh, runes covering my arms. Pouring the occamy claws into the bowl containing powdered gemstones and pointing her wand at it, "Vielli Proccio Killisi." 

The claws all fly up to me, gliding over my skin painfully. The black sigils disappeared as the talons stroked over them, instead leaving reddish purple lines across my wrists. It stung like a million wasps were mating on my arms, but stopped just as soon as it started and Mother was quick to rub a healing salve on the wounds.

~*~

"Draco! Happy birthday!" And I'm yet again being shoved into a heavily perfumed bosom, this time belonging to Pansy. "You're sparkly!" She eyes my arms for a second before looking up wide eyed. "Why is it... Red?" I chuckle at her. "Did You pick another fight with the cocks?" 

"No, Pans, those are Veela tattoos. Mom gave them to me today. Do you wanna go out and play with the cocks?" I ask hopefully, grabbing her wrist and running when she nods. "The chicks are just starting to get their adult plumage, look," I say, pointing at a very leggy female - she's grey-brown with bright blue shoulders and a scalloped pea green neck, and the skin around her eyes is yellow. "That's a java green. Out of all the varieties, those ones have the prettiest females." I smirk at her.

"Ok so Blaise and I got you a Kneazle, that bird is mine and her name is Ophelia," Pansy speaks rapidly, advancing on the young hen and scooping it into her arms.

"Pansy, Draco! I just got here," Blaise calls, running up and clapping me on the back. I tell him about my new tattoos and he chuckles at me, saying, "Great, now both of you have fancy translucent looking skin." Pansy stops kissing Ophelia for half a second, just to pout out her bottom lip at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make my day! hope my accidental happy chapter makes you happy


	8. dobbys warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/v0dUnoecoZ0

"What is your purpose?" Theo holds my new Kneazle up above his head.

"Theo what the hell," I say, snorting. He just narrows his eyes at the cat, eyeing it over as though it could be hiding something in it's smokey black fur. "Theo, put him down."

"Hmm. I still don't trust him," he mutters while finally putting down my new cat.

"You better trust him!" Pansy exclaims, finally joining our conversation rather than sitting on the windowsill and cooing to Ophelia.

We're in my room, waiting for our parents to finish their discussion. Blaise already left with the Zabinis.

Pansy notices Theo glaring at my new, unnamed Kneazle from her spot at the window seat. I pat my leg to make it come closer, and it bounds across the bed from Theo's place at my pillow to mine at the foot of the green sheeted bed. 

"Theodore, stop that," she urges, and I pick up the dark grey cat as Theo had.

"Klaus," I say. "Your name is Klaus now, okay?" He looks at me quizzically with his pumpkin orange eyes, black tufts on the ends of his large ears pointing backwards, giving the impression that he's glaring at me.

"I still don't trust him," Theodore says, crossing his arms and scowling at the nasty hand sign Pansy throws at him. "His tail has no business being that long." 

It's tail is quite long, round eyes large and the color of fire. Blaise said it was a breed that shed and grew it's fur in a way fairly similarly to how phoenix's grow and die, except the Kneazle fur is great for yarn apparently. I figure I should get Blaise something since Pansy already got a gift from me. They both pitched in to get Klaus, anyway. 

~*~

That night, Dobby came to me with very unsettling news. No sooner had he apparated in my room, eyes red rimmed and brimming with terrified tears, than Klaus had jumped on him, eliciting a surprised squeak from the elf.

"Master Draco!" He squeals, trying and failing to push the rogue Kneazle off his scrawny shoulders. "Your father has a terrible plan!"

"Klaus, he's a friend," I say to the cat, who impishly shies away from the elf, licking his hand as a feeble apology. "What's up, Dobby?"

"Oh, I like this cat very much! Klaus? An amazing name indeed, Master Draco!" Klaus seems to have temporarily distracted him, weaving his long body between the elf's legs.

"What were you saying, Dobby?" I ask him, wondering what the hell had gotten him so worked up. His eyes grow to twice their size as he looks up at me tearfully. Klaus jumps onto my lap when Dobby begins to sob loudly, his shrill voice echoing in my large bedroom.

"Master Lucius wants to hurt Harry Potter! Master Malfoy wishes to corrupt-" he starts, breaking off into shrieking sobs that shake my bed.

"Dobby, what does that-" FWOOP!! 

I begin coughing into the sudden fluffy cloud of silver and black. Apparently Klaus was ready to drop his coat, like Blaise had told me earlier. The fur enters every orifice to the point where all my senses are muffled. Dobby's voice carries through to me very lightly, growing louder as the fur curls around itself, twisting into very nice looking yarn, and I realize Dobby had been chanting a spell to spin it.

"Thanks Dobby," I say, eyes shut tight. An oddly hot weight falls into my lap and i look down to see fiery orange eyes, pupils blown looking up at me from Klaus' newly hairless, wrinkly face. "Care to give a warning next time?" He blinks at me, very slowly. {That's how cats say i love you}

I tentatively reach up a hand to put the naked Kneazle, noting that Dobby is wrapping up a charcoal colored yarnball in my peripheral vision. When I touch Klaus, he feels like a hot peach with an excess of skin. It's an odd sensation, and he purrs into my palm, pressing his face into my hand. 

"Master Draco?" Dobby asks, making me return my attention to him. "Your father, Master Malfoy, is plotting to hurt Harry Potter at school this year."

"We have to protect him."

~*~

Gilderoy Lockhart is signing books in Flourish and Blotts today. Dobby tried to warn Potter, but to no avail. So I'm forced to wait for him with Father, preparing myself to plant the Dark Lord's diary from school on him. Father isn't sure what it'll do, but Dobby said it has powerful magic that will release a great beast. I'm not sure if I can follow through with my father's wishes.

We just got out of Bourgin and Burkes, where Father had made a deal with the shop owner to sell some stuff before our house gets raided by the ministry. Now, however, we are on the second floor of the book store, peering down at the crowd of witches gathered to meet Mr. Lockhart, waiting for the Weasleys and Pretty Boy to appear.

A sudden commotion at the signing stand grabs my attention and I look down in time to see a very nervous looking Harry held in a deathgrip by Lockhart while a camera flashes at them avidly.

"Now's your chance, Draco," Father says when Potter walks toward the stairs. "Go provoke him. I'll see if I can hide the diary on him, since you probably aren't clever enough to."

I walk down the carpeted wooden steps, toward my demise. "Bet you loved that, Potter," I say with a sneer and then I'm nose-to-nose with my "nemesis."

"Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." I say, ripping a page out of the book Father handed me and pocketing it.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Yells a ginger girl I haven't seen before, obviously the youngest Weasley.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" I say somewhat jealously. Maybe I want him to be my boyfriend. Her face went as red as her hair in embarrassment.

"Oh, it's you," said Ronald angrily. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?" I quickly come up with a rude response.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those." I'm hit with a pang of guilt when I realize it's probably true. Mr. Weasley walks over to his kids and Harry, towing along the twins with him.

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley," Father drawls from where he snuck up behind me.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley responds with an edge to his voice. The tension between the two is highly palpable.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids..." Father let's the sentence hang in the air before continuing, "I hope they're paying you overtime?" He sneers, reaching into what I presume to be Potter's cauldron and pulling out a Transfiguration textbook. "Obviously not," he drawls, opening the book and placing something in it discreetly. Oh fuck. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Suddenly the people he is speaking to are all bright red tomatoes. 

"We have a different idea of what disgraces the name of Wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly," Father lets his gaze wander to what look to be Granger's Muggle parents, and it's obvious what he is implying. "The company you keep, Weasley... And I thought your family could sink no lower-"

A clang of metal, a cauldron flying, red and white hair flashing, punches being thrown, spellbooks thundering to the floor.

~*~

Platform nine and three quarters is crowded, and I'm stood next to Dobby, both of us watching the entrance from King's Cross eagerly. The elf beside me is here under the pretense of pushing my trolley - Mother and Father had left already, having decided that meeting their pureblood colleagues is more important than seeing me off. 

Suddenly, the tallest Weasley pops out of the wall, closely followed by the twins. Then the She-Weasel and her mother, then-

Snap! Dobby casts a sealing spell on the entrance, preventing Potter and his redheaded tumor from hopping on the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment any critique💜


	9. pondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/VWExRwlqlEs

The Express wasn't much different than last year. I sat in a compartment with Vince, Greg, Millicent, Daphne, Theodore, Pansy, and Blaise near the middle of the train, telling jokes and catching up. At one point, Granger came in looking beyond worried.

"Have you guys seen Harry or Ron?" She had asked us, voice quivering and cheeks tear stained. I almost felt bad for her. 

"Sorry, babe," said Pansy.

"I don't think you'll be seeing them this year, Granger," I said.

Fat chance at that, huh?

~*~

Of course, Pretty Boy and Red got to school through other means. The first morning back at school was punctuated not only by their return, but the Howler that Weasleys mother sent. I try to save Harry, and this is what I get instead? He put himself in more danger, got seen by Muggles, and to top it off, they get a Howler when I'm partway transformed and my senses are far beyond humanly possible. So not only am I boiling my orange juice with my fire, but I'm deafened for the day. I can't even hear my own screams when my Godfather is using the Cruciatus Curse on me before class as punishment. Who cares, anyway?

~*~

"I hate him."

"No you don't, Dray," Blaise says, absently petting Klaus, who is currently covered in short, silky fur. In a few weeks time he will be fluffy, but for now he's very sleek.

"You're just frustrated, Dray," Pansy adds. "I don't blame you, either."

"No. I hate him." I frown and turn to the window of the common room, lit with the eerie green glow of Moon Algae. Pansy wants to try talking with the Merpeople and the Nixies in order to learn their customs and their unique branch of magic, but Blaise didn't think it'd be a good idea. He's able to talk to the Gargoyles around the school and it quite frankly pisses us off with his stupid opportunities. 

"She's right, Malfoy," Theo mutters. The whole group turns to him and his expression goes blank. His eyes are open wide and glazed over, and the way his mouth looks gives the distinct impression that there's a toad inside that's desperately trying to escape. He leans to Blaise and whispers something inaudible.

"Theo says that if you didn't care about him you wouldn't have gone against Lucius' wishes and tried to warn him. Theo also says to stop looking at him." Theodore's great great grandmother was an Augurey, and he had many of the traits that the Irish Phoenix's were known for. 

Firstly, he was extremely shy. He hardly spoke when there were more than two people around him, and tended to speak through somebody else (mostly Blaise or Millicent, but Daphne works too). Secondly, he gets really sad and cries for no reason before storms. He also sings in the shower before storms, but that might not be due to his ancestry. Another odd thing he had inherited is that his skin and hair repels ink, something that Augereys are known for. 

Vincent, funnily enough, was one fourth River Troll. It gave him an odd appearance - flat nose, hairy arms, wide shoulders, fat neck, etc. - but my favorite part (to laugh at), was his stupid grunt of a voice. He can't transform like the more animalistic of us. 

Similarly to Vince, Greg can't transform either. He's part giant, and hates Hagrid the most out of us. Why? Mainly because Hagrid is loved and accepted as a partbred, whereas it's a well kept secret among purebloods.

"Draco, are you even listening?" Millicent quips, rolling her eyes at me.

"Do I have to?" I reply, just to piss her off. "Let me think."

"Yeah, Millie, allow his Highness to ponder," Daphne speaks up. "As you know, he and his stupid sheep cat is better than us all. He obviously has better things to do, such us fiddling with that page-"

"Hey! Klaus is NOT dumb, Bee and I got it for Dray," Pansy interrupts, snuggling Ophelia to her chest.

"Merlin, would you all just shut up?! Draco this, Draco that," Daphne begins, "The rest of us have problems too, what the hell is so important that we must listen to his every whim or worry? Hmm?!"

Blaise is the one who breaks the silence. "Greengrass, get the fuck out of our compartment before somebody-" he looks at me pointedly "-transforms and burns your face off." 

When I look down, my hands are glowing red hot.

~*~

In the common room a few days later, Pansy, Blaise and I are sat on the couch, watching the fire. Ophelia and Klaus lay before it contentedly. It's an odd sort of peacefulness. Pansy absently braids my hair, and Blaise is sewing something for Theo.

I'm still fiddling with the page. Basilisks. That's what Father bestowed upon our school. But what can I do, if anything? Probably not much.

"What's on that page anyway, Draco?" Pansy murmurs to the back off my head, nimble fingers flying.

"Something important." I can't say too much. She sighs.

"I suppose that means you're not sharing." It's not a question.

"Correct."

Pansy shifts her legs to wrap around my front, tugging my hair to hold me in place. She squeezes her thighs.

"Pans!" I choke, confused. 

"I'm gonna ruin your hair if you don't tell me how you feel," she states. "You've hardly said a word since the start of term."

"Well for one you're making me angry," I snort. In reply she jams her heel into my diaphragm to make me cough. "I'm scared, okay?!" 

Apparently that was enough for her, because she relents. I jump off the couch, turning to see her frowning at her hands. Blaise pokes her neck, causing her to leap from his lap, as well.

"I'm sewing, you absolute buffoons. Needles are sharp and I don't advise dancing in my lap if you don't like getting stabbed," he says stonily, eyeing us both with raised eyebrows.

Pansy smiles at him apologetically. I turn to go to bed; I'm done with their antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original author's notes literally just say that party rock has not been in the house tonight for many months. yeah. anyways comments are nice


	10. friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cedric about to make an appearance, and yes i love him. hufflepuffs are great. we love you. also, i renamed cho chang since its a racist name and to spite jk. her name is now Hei Chang, and she will at least be mentioned in this chapter. also the beginning is a memoir warm-up from writing class! YEET

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibe song: https://youtu.be/MC8nDOXzMYw

"I choke and gag on the words that take up too much space. His words, sinister, constrictive, wrapping around my chest. Eyes burning as the whispers open wounds, blood running down my face as the barrier breaks. In my sinking hysteria a voice screams from the surface. I have to stop before he hurts me. Weeping is for weaklings. Hold your breath. Eyes explode, that won't work. Fear takes hold again. Why am I being punished? He's cursing at the top of his lungs; his tongue is a noose. I gag and I cough, why can't I escape? I wish he would stop, I'm only a child. I was just a kid. Dad, I am just a kid."

The Slytherins all snap their fingers in applause. It was Millicents idea to hold a talent night where we could all support each other. That's my favorite thing about my House - we're loyal. She organized the event with Theo, Crabbe and Goyle built the stage, Blaise and Daphne sewed the new curtains and stage cover, and Pansy helped me write my piece.

It feels nice, to share this. I was scared I'd be embarrassed, ridiculed for allowing this hint of vulnerability. But instead it's empowering. I've shown weakness and it only made me feel stronger. Millie jumps onstage and bumps me aside with her hip (none too gently, at that) and takes a seat at the "Sharing Stool" as we call it.

"Thanks, Draco, for sharing your piece," she states, motioning me away. I take a seat next to one of the fires and Pansy jumps in my lap, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "Now, Higgs? Care to come up for your routine?" 

I spot him, sitting in the front row, just in time to see him hop up with a gentle smile plastered to his lips. He takes the stool from Bulstrode, pulling it out from under her rather than pushing her off. He's blond, plays Keeper for our Quidditch team, and one of few Muggleborns in our House. Unfortunately, he's also quite attractive.

"Hello Slytherins, ladies..." He allows the end of his sentence to hang in the air as he looks across the room. "I'm told you think I'm a Keeper! Which I am, but maybe not in the same regard as you refer. Which is quite unfortunate, really. I think it's probably because my parents aren't absolute pricks obsessed with blood purity." Nobody is certain whether they can laugh, but a couple chuckles sound from across the room. "No don't worry, they don't care. You can laugh! They're Muggles! That, my friends, is why Snape hates my guts..." He continues through his set - which I pay no attention - and causes the common room to erupt with frequent laughter. 

Rather than focus on him, I turn to the decor. Blaise did quite a nice job on the drapes: silver lace gently taming the greenish light from the window behind the stage, a plush green velvet pillow on the stool Daphne put together, extra candles lit upon the walls. It was cozy. Cozy enough to make me drift to sleep during Flint's juggling act. 

When I wake in the morning, Klaus has replaced Pansy on my lap. She didn't go to her dorm, apparently, because she's still cuddled up beside me. One of our friends must've carried me up, as I'm in my bed rather than sitting next to the fire in the commons. 

Pansy must still be sleeping. Her green eyes are closed and her face is relaxed entirely. She looks... peaceful. I reach to pet Klaus with one hand, stroking Pansys hair with the other. Not wishing to disturb her slumber, I allow my mind to wander.

I don't believe I got Blaise a present in return for my Kneazle, now that I think of it. He likes Nifflers, I'll get him one of those. Maybe I'll buy him a few if he makes me something. Hell, I'll buy three if he agrees to make me a new set of dress robes. If he did, he'd probably make me a fancy corset vest, the outer robes would have ruffles, the sleeves would open around my wrists-

"Good morning." Pansy pokes my nose while she stretches. "Think we ought to see the elves before you go to tryouts?" She asks me quietly, smiling. I poke her little button of a nose before answering.

"I had actually completely forgotten about Quidditch," I say honestly.

"I wish I could forget about it that easily," she replies, frowning now. "What with all the violent practices held at the Manor and such, breaking my arm..." She trails off, not wanting to speak aloud of Gizzy. I know how hard that was for Pansy, and I'm not at all surprised she can't let go.

"Let's go visit the elves, yeah?" I nudge her shoulder, shaking her gently as she attempts to snuggle further into my chest. My fingers slide down her body to tickle her sides, making her giggle. "Come on, let's go!" Gritting my teeth, I add more pressure. She jumps up, pulls a pillow from next to my head, and I dodge just in time to make her miss my head with her vicious swing.

~*~

After we get dressed, we head to the entrance hall before taking the tunnel to the kitchens. Consequently, we run into an older Hufflepuff with the same destination. We're just turning a corner, arms linked, when we walk directly into the chest of Cedric Diggory. 

"Oh, hey, sorry," he plunders out, backing away quickly and looking worried. "Is anybody hurt?" He asks, grabbing Pansy's hand to inspect her arm before quickly releasing it, looking as though he got slapped. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have grabbed you. That was rude of me. Are you two okay?" We nod. "Ok, I'm glad." He smiles at us for a moment. "Oh wait-- I'm Cedric. Diggory, I mean. Hufflepuff. What's your names?"

"Pansy Parkinson, Slytherin." "Draco Malfoy, Slytherin." We reply in unison.

"Parkinson, Malfoy. Pansy, Draco. Slytherin. Nice to meet you," he smiles nervously, scratching his ear. "I was just heading to the kitchen, you?"

"We're heading there, too," Pansy tells him. "What's that smell?" I hadn't noticed it before she asked, but there was, in fact, a lingering scent. Not unlike burning sage, it was spicy and earthy, bittersweet and stuck to my nose. Diggorys eyes widen, going from half-moon to dinner plate in half a second.

"Promise to keep a secret?" He chokes out, voice high. We nod slowly, suspicious. "Ok so I was just, er, you know, smoking-" 

"Aren't you a Prefect?" Pansy demands. I hadn't noticed the badge before then, but there it is. A big silver P gleaming on his breast pocket.

"I have depression, and it helps me feel better. Not cigarettes!" He raises his hands at my raised eyebrow. "Cannabis. It's been used medicinally for centuries, and it helps mentally ill people. If I don't smoke I get suicidal thoughts."

"Ok, I believe you," I drawl. "Shall we visit the elves, then, Pans?" She nods and we walk on, Cedric going through the pear portrait right behind us. I turn to him again with narrowed eyes. "Why are you still here?" Pansy holds up a hand to stifle her laugh.

"I was already heading here, like I said. It's mine and my girlfriends one month today, and I was going to make her something special." He shuffles his feet as he talks. Must be a nervous habit.

We spend some time talking to him and the elves, discussing what he should make (we decided on lemon poppy muffins) before we had to leave for the pitch. When Pansy and I arrived for my tryout, the entire team seemed to have been waiting for me. I scrunch my brows when I see that all the brooms - dark wooded, polished and sleek - are identical. The newest model. Seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. 

"Malfoy," calls Flint, Slytherin captain. "Write your father and tell him thanks for the brooms. You're part of the team now."

"Looks like you don't need to try out," Blaise says, sidling up to me. "But I don't think there would've been much competition between you and the others, you were always the best back at the Manor." 

~*~

Dozens of owls swoop in through the windows of the Great Hall. A pair of large tawnies drop a large package in my lap and wait for me to pay them before leaving. These must be the Nifflers. I run out the hall towards the kitchens where I know Blaise and Pansy currently reside. They had gone in there immediately after class to make a dress form, and couldn't finish in time for dinner. I would have stayed with them, except I knew my package would be arriving today.

Inside, elves run about, weaving around each other and sending up platters of dessert to the Hall above. I run past Cedric and Hei, wrapped tightly around each other next to the entrance, going straight for the back alcove. Blaise is cutting a length of wire to size and is about to hand it to Pansy so she can wrap it around the form when I reach them.

"Here," I pant out, grinning giddily. "Open the box." Blaise takes it, tilting his head questioningly. "Careful with the scissors."

Pansy hands him a pair of scissors (not his favorite scissors, though; those are fabric scissors) and he slices through the tape gingerly. A squeak issues from inside. He pulls away the flaps of cardboard, and out jump three Nifflers. The first, solid black excepting his beak, immediately tries to eat the shiny wire dress form before Pansy stops him. The second, steel grey with a lighter shoulder stripe, latches itself on Blaise's earring. The third, brown and white with spots on its eyes, holds back for a moment. Then, it jumps on the sewing desk and is dangerously close to inhaling dozens of sewing pins before I grasp it tightly.

"Holy shit, Malfoy. Keep an eye on 'em, eh?" Diggory calls from across the room. Hei snickers in his lap.

Blaise looks like he's about to explode with pure glee. "Sherman," he says, pointing at the black one. "Hubert," he names the grey one. "And Rufus," is the brown and white one. "They're so perfect. Thanks, Dragon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am a slut for comments. do it i dare you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. Thanks for trying on this lil fic of mine, I promise it'll get better. Please comment critique, ideas, questions etc and I'll try to get back to you. Hopefully this goes somewhere, as I've been pondering the idea for a couple weeks before starting this. Originally published in May of 2020, during the apocalypse. Thanks for starting this journey with me💜  
> ~I will add songs that vibe with the chapters to share my music and hopefully add something to the story~


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